A Coin Down the Wishing Well
by The Insanity of the Sane
Summary: It started off as a normal vampire hunt. But things take a turn for the worst when the two brothers are ambushed and Dean falls 15 ft down a well. It's up to Sam to get Dean out alive. Will he succeed or will the famous Winchester duo become a solo act? Not slash.
1. Chapter 1

Yellowstone National Park truly was a beautiful place. Tall trees, crystal clear creeks and pretty antique wells. Sam would have been thrilled to be in such a nature filled place had they not been on a job. Unfortunately they were, so he had to focus.

About three days ago, there were police reports of hikers being killed in the middle of the park. Cause of death was blood loss from a laceration in the jugular vein. As soon as the Winchesters heard this, they were thinking the same thing. Vampire.

Now the two brothers, Sam and Dean, were on an hour long drive to the center of Yellowstone where the killing took place. Armed with machetes, Dean and Sam travelled the distance mostly in silence. They would joke and make the occasional comment but there were both quiet most of the time, both for different reasons. Dean was too busy getting psyched for the upcoming battle against the vamps. Sam was enjoying the fresh air and change of scenery.

The hour went by quickly and soon the men had the Impala parked in a parking lot and walked ten minutes to the site of the murdered victims. It was a small clearing surrounded by large deciduous trees. In the center was an old brick well.

"Alright, we're here," Dean says unnecessarily, "And so we wait?"

"And so we wait," repeated Sam. He shifted uneasily, "I'm getting a bad feeling about this." Dean stared at him for a moment.

"You're kidding me, right?" he asked incredulously, "We've hunted like a million vampires! We could do it in our sleep!"

"You think I don't know that?" he retorted, "But something's wrong this time!" Sam insisted. Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother.

"Look, everything will be fine. We're gonna gank this thing like we do every-" the hunter was cut off when a vampire came flying out of nowhere and tackled him.

Dean was knocked off his feet and plowed into the ground. The vamp was on top of him, fangs out and claws slashing at his chest. He felt the monster's razor sharp nails pierce his flesh and rake downward. Dean moaned in pain and was surprised when the burden on his abdomen suddenly disappeared.

Thinking fast, Sam had grabbed the back of the vampire's denim jacket and hauled the load off of his older brother.

"You okay?" Sam shouted to Dean.

"Peachy," the elder Winchester called back.

Then things took a turn for the worst. Sam saw Dean's eyes widen considerably, and then the oldest brother launched himself to his feet and, with all his might, shoved Sam as far as he could. Sam looked up just in time to see the vampire barrel into Dean, sending him over the brick wall and down the well. There was a moment of silence, then a distant splash as he hit the water below.

The monster's cry of triumph was drowned out by Sam's bellow of pure rage. He pulled out his machete and started slashing at the beast. It took the hunter no longer than fifteen second to decapitate his opponent. Sam dropped the knife and bolted to the well.

"Dean!" he could see nothing but darkness at the bottom of the hole, "DEAN!" he called again louder. He grabbed his flashlight out of his pocket, switched it on, and shined the beam of light down.

His brother was slumped in a pool of water about a foot deep. He was propped up against the wall and his head was out of the liquid so Sam didn't have to worry about him drowning. Half of his face was colored red with blood.

"Dean! Can you hear me?" there was no answer. His brother didn't even stir. Sam looked closer and he could see the rise and fall of Dean's chest as he breathed. But it was shallow and erratic, as if each attempt to pull oxygen into his lungs was a struggle.

Sam's first instinct was to dive head first after his brother but, of course, he forced himself to pause and think rationally. He knew for a fact there was some rope in the trunk of the Impala but he didn't want to leave his brother alone at the bottom of a well.

Realizing he had no choice Sam turned on his heel and ran toward the Chevy. He remembered the ten minutes it had taken to walk to the clearing and figured we could make the distance in half the time. Images of his unconscious, bloody brother flashed behind his eyes and he poured on the speed.

Sam skidded to a halt in front of the trunk of the car. He opened the door, grabbed the rope and speed back to the well. Once he arrived, the first thing he noticed was two people peering down into hole that contained his brother. They were both sporting giant backpacks which made Sam suspect they were hikers. The tall one was obviously male and resembled a quarterback with his large muscles and blond hair. The woman standing next to him was moderate sized, about 5'4, and had red hair but no freckles which made him guess it was dyed. She obviously was not as muscular as the man but she still looked strong. They both looked distressed and worried so Sam knew they were no threat. When he ran up the hikers jumped a little.

"Oh please! You have to help!" the woman cried, "There's a man down there! Call 911!"

"Yes I know. He's my brother," he said in a surprisingly calm voice, "I need your help getting him out."

"Anything," the man said immediately, "Tell us what to do."

"Here's the plan: I need you two to lower me down, I'll tie the rope around Dean and you pull him up, then you throw the rope back down and I'll climb back up. Got it?" Sam explained quickly.

"Got it," the man replied.

"Is Dean your brother?" the woman asked softly.

"Yes," he replied, "And my name is Sam."

"I'm Derrick," the man introduced himself, "And this is my wife Caroline." He gestured toward the woman.

He nodded to them then got to work fixing the rope. It was about twenty five feet long and the well was only about twelve to fifteen feet deep so they had more than enough. He made the loop big enough so it could be slipped under Dean's arms and tied it off. He tied the other end of the rope around a tree closest to the well. He walked quickly back to the well stepped into the rope loop and brought it up around his thighs the sat just at the edge of the brick wall.

"Ready?" he asked Derrick and Caroline. They both grabbed the rope and gripped it tightly with both hands.

"Ready!" Derrick confirmed, and Caroline nodded as well. Sam eased himself over the edge and the two hikers started lowering him down. The knot seemed to be holding up well and the rope was strong enough to bear his weight. The deeper he went the darker it got. The black felt like it was suffocating him, but he wouldn't give up. _Hold on Dean, _Sam thought to himself, _I'm coming to get you out of here._

Then he felt his feet touch the well water. The searing cold liquid was such a shock against his bare skin it almost made him cry out. He wanted to tell Derrick and Caroline to reel him back up but then he thought of Dean and how long he had been suffering in this place and he sobered up immediately.

He waited for the rope to slacken enough so he slip it off of himself then called up to his acquaintances to stop. He waved his hands around and tried to find Dean. His arms softly struck something soft and solid and immediately recognized the feel of his brother's favorite leather jacket. He ran his hands along his brother, trying to find his head in the darkness. Once he did, he slipped the rope over his head and under his arms.

He tugged the rope, signaling the couple to start pulling his brother up. Sam watched as Dean slowly rose into the air, twisting almost elegantly above him. For a petrifying moment, Sam feared his brother would slip from the rope and come crashing back down into the well but he stayed put and continued to rise up to mouth of the hole.

Derrick and Caroline grabbed Dean's shirt and, as gently as they could, hauled him over the wall and laid him on the grassy ground. They slipped the rope off the elder Winchester brother and once again cast it back down into the well. Sam grabbed the rope and started climbing back up. The hikers were shocked at the fact that they didn't need to pull him up. What they didn't know was that, as a child, Sam's father had forced him and Dean to go through a series of courses and exercises to keep them strong to hunt he monsters that's plagued Earth.

Once Sam reached the mouth of the well, Derrick helped him climb over. Sam looked over and saw Caroline cradling his brother's head in her lap, trying to offer as much warmth and comfort as she could.

"Is he alive?" Sam panted, he was afraid of what the answer might be.

"He's breathing but only just," Caroline replied. Her response made Sam both breathe out a sigh of relief and made his insides freeze with icy terror. He didn't know what he would do if his brother died. He didn't want to think about it either.


	2. Chapter 2

He bent down and scooped Dean up into his arms with relative ease. This surprised him a bit, but then again his horror at the fact of losing the man mixed with all the adrenalin pumping through his veins gave him extra strength. Sam took off in a brisk walk (not wanting to run in fear of further injuring the load in his arms) toward the car. The couple trailed just behind him. They made it back to the car in six minutes.

"We'll follow you to the hospital," Derrick announced.

"Is that alright with you?" Caroline asked politely in her soft voice.

"Yes," Sam answered quickly then put Dean in the passenger's seat, took the keys out of his brother's leather coat pocket and drove off. When Sam was a teenager and first learning how to drive he studied the driving laws textbook his father had gave him like it was the bible. He had always obeyed the traffic laws because he knew if they got pulled over there was always the chance that the cop might find the weapons in the hidden compartment in his trunk and he didn't want to risk that. Now all that changed, he took that driving laws book, threw it out the window and put the pedal to the metal. He ran through red lights, didn't stop at stop signs and went at least thirty miles per hour over the speed limit.

He glanced over at his brother and immediately regretted the decision. Dean Winchester looked absolutely like death. He was slumped over in the bench seat next to him, his head resting against his chest. His skin was so pale it almost looked translucent. Sam put his hand underneath Dean's nose and was reassured when he felt small puffs of air every few seconds.

It might have been due to Sam's speeding but they arrived at the emergency hospital faster than he thought they would, though it felt like an eternity to him. Sam jumped out of his seat and slid across the hood of the car. He wrenched the door open and once again pulled Dean into his arms. Caroline and Derrick appeared behind him.

"Let me help you," Derrick tried to help take some of Dean's weight but Sam's protective instinct kicked in and he refused to let Dean out of his grasp again. When they reached the hospital door Caroline grabbed the handle and held it open for Sam since his arms were full. He nodded a quick thank you.

"Help!" Sam screeched, "Somebody help us!" four free doctors rushed forward and took Dean out of Sam's arms and placed him on a gurney. The doctors sprinted down the hall, pushing the gurney between them. Sam tried to follow but one of the nurses held him back.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you're going to have to wait," she said, sympathy laced in her tone. "The waiting room is just over there," she pointed to a door labeled 'Patient Waiting Area'.

Slowly, as if in a dream, Sam made his way over to the room, picked a seat and sat down. He felt numb. By now all the adrenalin had worn off but there was no exhaustion, just coldness. A shadow crossed his as Caroline and Derrick walked up behind him.

"Is he okay?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," he asked truthfully, "They took him away… He wasn't moving."

"Hey," Derrick said sternly, "If your brother is half as tough as you I know for a fact he'll make it through just fine." Sam smiled. He always had trouble trusting but there was something about these people. Like everywhere they went they would anyone who needed it no matter what. They were good people.

"Thank you," Sam said, "That means a lot to me."

"Will you be alright?" Caroline asked him. She seemed hesitant to leave him there alone.

"Yes I'll be fine," he gave her a reassuring smile, "Thank you for helping me save my brother. He's all I have left. You can go. I'll be fine on my own." Sam didn't want them to be taken away from their lives just because of him. He especially didn't want them to find out about his "profession". They shook his hand, wished him luck and left.

Time seemed to escape Sam in that tiny white waiting room. He wasn't sure if minutes, hours or the whole day had passed. At some point in time though, a nurse took pity on the worried younger sibling and brought him a warm wool blanket and a Styrofoam cup of black coffee.

Sam wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and took a sip of the liquid. It had at least one spoonful of sugar and that, in Sam's opinion, was too sweet. To another person, it would have tasted great, but he liked his coffee black, bold and bitter. He never really cared about the taste, just the affect the caffeine had on him. Now he didn't care, Sam didn't take another sip. He curled his fingers around the cup and took its warmth. Sam loved coffee, and normally, he would have chugged that like a child just given a mug of hot chocolate after a day out in the snow. Not this time though, now he just wanted to sleep, but his worry-sick mind wouldn't give it to him.

"Dean Winchester?" Sam looked up and the sight that greeted him was a doctor in a traditional white coat. He looked about middle-aged and his short black hair had streaks of gray running through it. Sam stood up.

"Is he alright?" he asked. The doctor looked down at his clip board.

"He has suffered a severe concussion, two broken ribs and also a broken wrist," the doctor informed him. "Your brother has also lost quite a bit of blood from the lacerations on his chest but we gave him a blood transfusion. Dean is a strong man and he'll pull through." The doctor finished with a smile. Sam collapsed back into the plastic chair in relief.

"Can I take him home?" Sam asked. The doctor was hesitant to agree. "Please, Doctor, my brother hates hospitals and I think he would feel more comfortable in his own bed." Well, motel bed but same difference. The doctor still looked unconvinced.

"You realize how much effort it will require, don't you?" the doctor questioned him, "Your brother will not be able to take care of himself and that responsibility will fall on you."

"I know," Sam assured him, "but if Dean was in my position he would be fighting you tooth and claw to get me back home. He would want to take care of me and I think I owe him that in return. I love my brother and I would give my life for him." Sam meant it too. With his hobby, he might one day live up to that statement

"If that is how you truly feel, then alright," the doctor agreed reluctantly. "His condition is stable and there is really nothing else I can do. If anything happens or if you have any questions call me straight away." He handed Sam his card. The bold black ink read 'Doctor John Stewart". Sam promised he would call if there was an emergency and thanked him for saving his brother. The doctor politely asked him to remain in the room while they readied his brother for the trip home.

Sam paced impatiently in the waiting room. He couldn't wait to get out of that hospital. It felt like the four while walls were closing in on him, threatening to crush him. Five minutes later, a nurse rolled Dean into the room in a wheelchair. His brother was still asleep, his head leaning against the headrest.

They had cleaned Dean up. His face was no longer smeared with blood, but Sam could see the now bandaged wound from which the red liquid had come from. The cut was shallow, not requiring stitches, and about an inch long. It was just below the hairline on the right side of his face. Dean was also sporting a new cast to hold his broken left wrist in place.

"The doctor wanted me to inform you that Mr. Winchester may be unconscious for some time and when he does wake up he may not be completely lucid because of the concussion," the nurse explained to him. "These are Mr. Winchester's pain medication." She handed him a small orange bottle instructing to take one capsule every twelve hours. "Also, don't let Mr. Winchester move around too much. Doctor's orders." Sam nodded his understanding and wheeled Dean out to the car.

He opened the passenger door then, as gently as possible, lifted Dean from the wheelchair and into the car. He closed the door, folded up the wheelchair, put it in the back seat and got into the car himself. He started the engine and head off in the direction of home.

Sam switched on the radio and the song Carry on My Wayward Son by Kansas came on. Dean loved all the classic rock songs. Personally, Sam didn't care for them that much but they made Dean happy so he chose to ignore the music as much as he could. Of course, his brother always had the music on full blast so ignoring was not an as easy a task as it seemed.

"Sammy?" Dean's low groggy voice made Sam jump. His brother had his eyes open but they were unfocused. He was stilled sagged against the door as if he didn't have the strength to pull himself into a sitting position. Sam quickly pulled over to the curb.

"Hey Dean," he said softly. "How you feeling?"

"Mmm tired," he slurred. His eyes rolled around, trying to focus on something. His pupils were unequal in size. "So bright." He complained.

"I know," Sam said, trying to hide his worry, "We'll be home soon." Dean's head began to nod as he fell back to sleep. Sam got back onto the road and drove back to the motel.

Once they Sam had found a parking spot he got Dean out of the car and wheeled him into the room. Gently, Sam put his brother on the bed and laid the covers over him to keep him warm. Then, he picked up the phone and called the person both he and Dean considered a second father, Bobby Singer.

"Hello?" Bobby's voice sounded from the receiver.

"Hey Bobby, it's Sam."

"Do you two need help on that vampire job over in Yellowstone?"

"Bobby something's happened to Dean." Sam cut straight to the chase.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked immediately. Sam recounted how they were surprised by the vampire and how Dean had shoved him aside to save him from being pushed down the well but ended up falling there himself.

"I'll be right there." Bobby informed him.

"No," Sam said quickly, "the doctors say Dean's gonna be fine. Stay at home."

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Bobby sounded concerned.

"I'll be fine." Sam said a little defensively. He knew how to take care of his own brother. He heard Bobby sigh on the other end.

"Alright, but call me if you need a break." Sam promised he would and put the phone back on the hook.

He plopped down on the bed adjacent to Dean's. It had been a very stressful day and he was exhausted. Just as he was about to nod off he heard a groan next to him. Opening his eyes he saw Dean was beginning to wake up. Sam leapt off his bed and crouched next to his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey Bro," Sam said to his brother. He smiled when Dean's eyes focused on his face.

"Sam?" Dean seemed much more aware than the last time he woke up. "What happened? Where am I?" his features were scrunched in confusion. He gazed around the room without comprehension.

"How much do you remember?" he asked carefully. Dean paused to think.

"I don't know!" he moaned in frustration. He burst into a fit of coughing then fell back against the pillows and whimpered in agony.

"Shhh shhh," Sam soothed, "It's okay. Everything's fine." Dean looked up at his younger brother and, for the first time, Sam saw fear in his eyes. That terrified him more than anything else. Even after all they had been through, the hunts, the demons, the ghosts, the multiple near-death experiences, Sam had never seen Dean blink. Never saw a flash of fright pass across his features. Dean was the strong one, the immovable rock. Seeing his brother crack like this, it broke a piece of him as well.

Every time Sam was scared or had a nightmare, which wasn't uncommon in their life style, Dean was always there to tell him everything was alright. That he would ice any demon that tried to lay a finger on him. Now it was Sam's turn to do the comforting and to be the strong one. He had no idea how his brother did it. How he kept a composed face when all he wanted to do was burst in tears and hide under the bed. The youngest Winchester would try though, he owed Dean that much.

"What happened, Sammy?" Dean asked, a slight tremble in his voice.

"We went to the middle of Yellowstone National Park to examine the scene where the victim was killed," Sam began, "Do you remember what we were hunting?" Dean thought for a while then shook his head. For a second Sam wondered why Dean couldn't remember anything but then recalled an article he had read about slight memory loss being a symptom of a concussion. "We were hunting a vampire, Dean. It surprised us from behind, it was going to hit me but you were quicker and shoved me out of the way. The vampire slammed into you and you fell fifteen feet down a well." Sam looked at Dean's expression, gauging how he was taking the news. He was looking down at the blanket; his eyes glazed over as if trying to search his mind for a memory from years ago but couldn't quite recall it.

"What happened after that?"

"I took you to the hospital. The doctors patched you up and they said you'll be fine. A few days of rest of you'll be as good as new." Sam put on a huge smile and hoped it looked convincing.

"Why can't I remember?" Dean asked in a small voice.

"You have a concussion; one of the symptoms is memory loss. You also have a broken wrist and a few broken ribs." Dean raises his up to his side and then winced. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm tired," he said. Sam believed him. The dark circles under his brother's eyes were more pronounced than ever. His skin was a shade paler than normal.

"Okay," Sam smiled. "The doctor gave you some pain medicine you have to take. I'll go get you a glass of water." Sam expected a fight but was surprised when Dean agreed to take the pill. His brother hated taking medicine. He always insisted he didn't need it, that he didn't hurt. Of course Sam had always seen straight through this and told Dean than he either took the capsule willingly or he would shove it down his throat. Sam got a glass and filled it three quarters of the way with water, then fetched the orange bottle from the counter, unscrewed the lid and took out a single pill. It was evening now so he would give his brother another in the morning.

"Here it is." Sam handed Dean the glass and the medicine. Dean popped the pill in his mouth and chased it down with a huge mouthful of water. Realizing how thirsty he was he finished the entire cup of H2O in two big gulps. Then Dean's stomach rumbled and Sam remembered he hadn't eaten since breakfast. Sam had had the forethought to bring a granola bar on their hunt and he had offered a bit to Dean but he refused.

"I'll go out and get you some food," Sam announced. "Will you be alright on your own?" he worried. Dean grinned.

"After more than twenty years of hunting I think I can handle being away from your side for half an hour." Dean's laughter was cut off by an enormous yawn.

"Get some rest," he ordered. "I'll wake you when I get back with the food." He waited until the eldest Winchester was comfortable then snatched the car keys off the table, walked out the door and got into the '67 Chevy Impala.

SPN

Dean heard the door slam as his brother left. Slowly, he opened his eyes and examined the patterns in the ceiling, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar texture. He wished he could do the same with his memory, concentrate on it until everything came back to him again. When he tried all he got was frustrated and a migraine. The more he fought to regain his recent past the more it eluded him. He thought of the story his brother had told him about what had happened but that's all it was, a story. it seemed unreal to him. It felt like it hadn't happened to him but to someone else, a fictional character. The pain was a cruel reality, however. The constant ache behind his eyes was real. The agony of his broken ribs and wrist were real. So were the sharp pains of the claw marks on his chest that must have been caused by the nails of his attacker.

It was a terrifying feeling, knowing you had fought a vampire and having the marks of that fight but not remembering it. Dean was scared. He wasn't about to lie. Usually, whenever he felt fear he forced himself to but on a brave face for his young, impressionable brother. This time he couldn't, it was just too much. He could feel his strong walls starting to crack and there was nothing he could do about it. He was so proud of Sammy though. He knew his brother was worried about him but Sam made sure he was calm and collected when he was around Dean. He almost laughed at the irony of it. So the roles had been reversed.

Another enormous yawn overtook him. In his musings had made his exhaustion escape his mind temporarily. Careful not to agitate his injuries, Dean slowly turned onto his stomach and buried his head in the feather soft pillow. He breathed a soft sigh of contentment and drifted off to the oblivion of sleep. The tranquility did not last long, however.

That night Dean had yet another nightmare. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. It happened so frequently that one might think Dean would have gotten used to it, he wished could but, of course, it was impossible. Even a dream he had had before was an entirely new, horrifying experience. In this dream, everything was pure black. It was cold and wet. He could heard snarls and growls but could not see the source of them. He couldn't stop shaking but whether it was from the cold or fear he didn't know. Then a bright light shone from above like an angel descending down from heaven. When he looked at the light his chest swelled with a wonderful feeling, a feeling of hope. Then the brightness started getting smaller and smaller, he begged and cried out for it to stop, to come back but it ignored his desperate pleas and continued disappearing. As the light vanished, so did his hope.

Dean awoke with a jolt and saw Sam staring down at him, Concern glistening in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked. Dean almost groaned in pain. Why did he have to talk so loud? He forced himself to nod then instantly regretted the decision as his head felt like it was splitting in his agony. Sam pulled Dean into his chest and rubbed soothing circles into his back. Any other given day, Dean would have pulled away and made some smart comment about it being like a bad cliché from an even worse movie, but this time he accepted the comfort eagerly. He felt himself shaking slightly but he forbid the tears from to slid down his face. He wouldn't cry; he wasn't that weak.

"It's alright. Everything's okay," he heard Sam say comfortingly, "It was just a dream." Dean pulled himself out of his brother's embrace as he remembered his hunger.

"Did you bring the food?" he asked, his dream and their loving sibling moment instantly forgotten. Sam nodded and went to go get the white carry out bag from the table.

SPN

When Sam had entered the motel room after going out to get food for his bedridden brother he had found Dean lying in his bed with the sheets twisted tightly around his waist. A light sheen of sweat shone on his face which was pulled in a grimace as he cried out for help. Sam practically threw the bag of food of the table and rushed over to the first born Winchester. He had grabbed his shoulders and shook them while calling out his name. For as he will live, he will never forget the look in Dean's eyes when he woke up, it was one of pure, unadulterated terror.

Right then he had wanted run, to forget all his troubles but Dean needed him. He wouldn't abandon his brother, not when he needed him. Once Dean had composed himself he asked Sam if he had brought the food. Sam knew his brother was trying to be strong but he saw right through it like he always did. However, he didn't question it. He would help any way he could but this was something Dean had to work out on his own, and Sam hated it.

Sam snatched the McDonald's carry out bag from the table and handed it to Dean. He had bought his brother one burger and large fries. He also got Dean a large coke to wash everything down. Dean took out the burger, unwrapped it and tore into it like he hadn't eaten in three days. Shortly after, he scarfed down the fries.

"You were hungry," Sam noted, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Do you want me to go out and get you some more?" he asked.

"Nah I'm fine," Dean replied as he sucked on the straw of his drink.

"So," Sam began, "You wanna talk about that nightmare you were having when I walked in." Dean held out his hand to stop him.

"Hey, no chick flick moments." He said seriously. Sam let out a snort of laughter.

"Right." Sam grabbed the television remote of the coffee table next to the two beds, "You wanna watch some TV?" He asked.

"No," Dean shoved the ugly motel blankets off his body and moved to get up, "We have work to do, vampires to kill."

"Oh no!" He softly, but firmly pushed Dean back onto the mattress. "You're staying in bed."

"But Sammy-"

"Forget it, Dean. You're sick and you're not going anywhere." Sam ordered. Dean started to pout.

"Oh yeah? Well then who's gonna get rid of these vamps? You know they live in clans so there couldn't have been just one. There are more out there and they are just going to keep killing until we stop them!" he retorted. Sam had to think a moment then came up with an idea.

"I'll call Bobby, he can work the job until you feel better," Sam reasoned.

"I feel fine now!" Dean yelled in frustration. Sam grabbed Dean's ribs and squeezed slightly. His brother winced and let out a tiny, almost inaudible gasp of pain as his broken ribs were agitated. It was a bit of a low blow but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Fine, huh?" Sam questioned sarcastically. Dean glared at his younger sibling but finally caved.

"Alright, fine!" Dean said angrily.

"I'll call Bobby." Sam picked up the phone and punched in the familiar number. It rung twice before Bobby answered.

"Singer here," he said.

"Hey, man, its Sam… again," Sam said somewhat sheepishly. He felt bad for taking Bobby away from his house when he probably had work to do. "I think I might take you up on that offer you made before. Dean won't rest while he knows those vampires are still out there. It was a miracle I could convince him to hand the job over to you. Will you take it?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," Bobby's voice crackled. "I've been worried sick ever since you called me, ya idgit. I've been wanting to talk to Dean and ask how he's feeling." He said. "I'll be right over."

"Okay, see you soon." Sam said, and then hung up. "Bobby says he's on his way over now. He should be here is a few days or so." He turned to Dean. His brother had gone pale and he was swaying on his feet. "Dean?" Sam said urgently as he rushed toward his brother. He guided him back to the mattress and set him down. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" he said distantly, "Just got a little dizzy." Then Sam realized Dean's shirt was wet. He thought back to when Dean was eating and he didn't remember him spilling his drink. He brought his slick hand away and glanced at it. It was coated with a warm red liquid, blood. Dean's wounds must have reopened. Sam forced himself to calm down and take a breath.

"Take your shirt off and let me take a look at those cuts," slowly and with a little help Dean complied. The previously white bandages that had protected his lacerations from bacteria were stained bright red with blood. He tossed the soaked gauze in the garbage and cleaned the life sustaining fluid off of Dean's chest. The bleeding had stopped and the wounds were beginning to scab over again. He went to the bathroom, grabbed a clean cloth and ran some cold water over it. He walked back to his brother, cleaned his wounds and redressed them.

SPN

He watched as Sam washed the blood out of the cloth. He watched as the water ran red and flowed into the sink. It felt like his whole body was just in pain. His abdomen hurt and if he moved the wrong way, his broken ribs would send shockwaves of agony ricocheting through his body. He was so tired. His head felt like lead, his eyes were drooping and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. He felt his muscles relax and his eyes close before he succumbed to the wonderful bliss of sleep.

On very rare occasions, Dean sometimes managed to get a night's sleep without being plagued by horrific nightmares. This was also one of those nights and he was even blessed by a good dream. His dream mostly consisted of flashbacks of the few pleasant memories he had. Memories of him and his father sitting at the crappy motel table just talking. No harsh words being screeched from across the room, no angry glares.

This dream, however, was about one of the few Christmases he, his dad and his brother actually celebrated. It was 1995, Dean was 16 years old and Sam was only 12. John had cut down a small, sickly pine tree from the forest. The family had been in Lancaster, Pennsylvania so there was about half a foot of snow on the ground, adding to the Christmas spirit. They all had stolen some small items from gas stations to give to each other and wrapped it up in old newspaper. It wasn't a Christmas any other family that lived an apple pie life would seriously enjoy but they were satisfied. John had even gotten a huge turkey that they accidently burnt in the motel oven. It was memories like these that Dean truly loved, that his subconscious treated itself with during his hours of sleep.

SPN

Sam watched his brother eyes move back and forth rapidly as he dreamt. He hoped Dean wasn't being haunted by nightmares like every other night. The eldest Winchester's face was pale and a light sheen of sweat covered his face. Sam hated to admit it but Dean didn't look great. He felt his forehead, it was burning up. His wounds must have been infected.

"What is wrong with him?" a low gruff voice sounded from the corner of the room behind the Sam.

Sam yanked the gun from its holster on his hip, turned on his heel, and pulled the trigger without looking who it was. As his mind registered the face of the intruder he realized he had just shot Castiel. The angel looked down at the gunshot wound without expression then glanced up at Sam, annoyance sparkling in his eyes. Sam smiled sheepishly as he recognized his mistake.

"Sorry Cas," he laughed nervously as Castiel dug the bullet from his chest.

"What's wrong with him?" the angel repeated, impatience darkening his tone. Sam, once again, recounted the story of Dean's trauma. Castiel then proceeded to walk over to Dean's side and lay his palm against the bedridden man's forehead. A bright warm light emitted from the angel's hand. The light faded away and Dean sat up with a large gasp.

"He is healed," Castiel said emotionlessly. A huge grin slowly spread across Dean's face.

"Well finally! I was getting sick of being sick!" Dean exclaimed, "C'mon Sam, we've got us some vampires to hunt."


End file.
